


Too Much Is Never Enough

by DisasterStraight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Breakup, Cheating, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Heavy Angst, M/M, Reader-Insert, Sadness, argument
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-09-28 14:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterStraight/pseuds/DisasterStraight
Summary: He doesn't know why he did what he did, and he doesn't know why he told you. All he can do now is try to rebuild.





	1. The Fixer

**Author's Note:**

> So I really get off on emotionally pain, which will become quickly apparent throughout this series. A less vague summary is that Tony cheats on the reader, and the reader doesn't much care for that. Everything goes to shit and absolutely no one is happy.

It was an accident. That’s what he would tell himself, that it was an accident. One night, one too many drinks, one person that wasn’t you. Weak excuses, that’s what it was. He knew exactly what he was doing when he did it.

When he was flirting with them at the party he was thinking of you, when he took them to a room and laid them down on the bed he was thinking of you, when he looked down at their welcoming, naked body as they cried his name he was thinking of you, and he knew exactly what he doing. Even as he did it it was killing him.

The whole time all he could think about was how wrong what he was doing was. It wasn’t sex, it was friendly fire. An attack from the allied side.

In the morning after he shamefully washed them off of him and redressed. They'd seemed to cover every inch of him like an uncomfortably tight second skin, and no matter how much he scrubbed he couldn’t shake the feeling of them on him.

Terrified, heart slamming against his chest, he left them while they were sleeping. He didn’t want to go home to you after what he’d done, he wasn’t sure if he could face you. You’d left half a dozen worried messages on his phone when he hadn’t come home after the party.

“Hey, Tony. Just checking in to make sure everything’s going well at the party,” your recorded voice repeated. You laughed. “I’m sure you’re busy living it up with Rhodey so I’ll leave you to it, but if you get a chance, let me know when you’re coming home. Love you!”

“Tony, it’s Y/N again. It’s getting really late and you know how I worry, so if you could call me back and let me know you’re okay and tell me what’s going on, that’d be great. I’m sure everything’s fine, but you know how it is. Call me. I love you.”

“Hi. I just called Rhodey and he told me that the party got pretty crazy and he lost you a few hours ago. It’s one in the morning and you’ve got me fretting on the couch like you’re some kid missing curfew. I’m gonna try to get some sleep, but please call me. I know that you’re literally a superhero and you can take care of yourself, but anything can happen. Please call me. I love you. Bye.”

“Tony, get your iron ass home. The sun’s just rising and I’m halfway through the hospital directory. None of them have anyone like you, but that’s not helping much. God, I’m so tired. I couldn’t really sleep. Nightmares, you know? It’s just not like you to run off and not call. Please let me know you’re safe. Okay, I’m gonna call the Upstate hospitals now. Love you.”

“Tony, if you’re in trouble you can tell me. Or I guess, if something happened you probably can’t. Shit, shit, shit. Damn it. I’m crying now. This is just great. Right. Okay. If you aren’t home by noon I’m going to call Coulson. No one else knows where you are. If you got called in or something, you’d tell me, right? You wouldn’t save the world without telling me. But nothing’s on the news... Shit. I love you. Please call.”

Your messages broke his heart. He’d been out all night betraying you and you’d been scared sick for him. He could feel his throat getting tight and his head pounding. His head was weighed down with guilt and fear--the terrible, raw fear that you would find out and that you would leave.  Tony felt like he was going to drown under all of it.

But he had to go home. He couldn’t let you worry any more about him, and he couldn’t hurt you by telling you what really happened the night before.

Before he entered the house he checked and rechecked his clothes and face for any telltale marks or scent of the person from last night. Thankfully he was clean, so he steeled his nerves and prepared a lie for you.

You were sitting at the marble island in the kitchen, papers and phone registries strewn around you. You were staring at the phone in your hand, Coulson’s number dialed and ready, waiting for exactly noon to make the call.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called in his most sitcom-like voice.

You whipped your head, revealing your pale, tired face. Immediately your tense brow relaxed and the relief shone in a grateful smile.

“Thank God, you’re safe!”

You rushed him and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck and breathing him him, your anxiety melting away. Tony’s heart jumped and he prayed that his suit was as clean as he thought it was.

“Where were you?” you asked, pulling away from his neck and laying your hands on his shoulders. You were watching him, concerned and unsuspecting.

“Let's just say that I found out what happens when you mix too many dry martinis with too little supervision and wind up on a flamingo-shaped floatie in the hotel pool,” he lied with a wry smile. “I left my phone in my jacket poolside. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t do things like that, Tony. I was scared sick--”

“Scared sick,” he said with you. You smiled.

“I’m glad you’re okay. Glad you’re home.” You kissed him then. It was a gentle, patient thing. He did his best to kiss you back, but his heart wasn’t in it. If you noticed this, you didn’t say anything.

“Are you hungry?” asked him. “I could make some lunch if you want.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough for me already,” he assured you, pulling you in for a hug. It felt selfish to have you after what he’d done, but he couldn’t help himself. He was so in love with you that he ached for you with every muscle and drop of blood in his body. “Get some rest.”

“Wanna join me?” you smirked, but you were so tired that you yawned right after saying it. He chuckled and turned you in direction of the bedroom.

“Get outta here. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nodded and marched to the bedroom without turning around. As soon as you were out of sight Tony’s shoulders slumped. He turned on his heels and fixed himself a drink. Then two. Then three. He didn't stop until his vision blurred and his head swam. He managed to get to his feet and stumble down to his lab. He wasn’t too sloppy, but it was more than enough to distract him from himself.

Rhodey called a couple times, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to talk to him. He felt so weak, so cowardly and cruel. You deserved better than him, you always had, and he’d just proved it. Worthless, traitor, asshole, _cheater_.

That was the word that stuck with him. _Cheater_. For all his faults, for all his many mistakes and miscalculations, Tony had come by the best things in his life fairly. He didn’t cheat. Occasionally the rules were bent for a good cause, but Tony was an honest man. He only lied about the contents of his own head, nothing else.

It was eating him up. He’d only been away from that hotel room a few hours and he already couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew that if he didn’t find some way to come to terms with what had happened, the next time he saw you he would spill over.

So what were his options? He didn’t have many. He couldn’t think of any way to make the sour nausea in his throat and mouth go away, or stop churning his stomach, or crowding his head with loud, painful thoughts.

“Tony?”

He pulled his head up, looking up at you. It was painful to see your concern. You looked slightly better rested than before, and despite your worry, you were relaxed.

“I get hair of the dog, but don’t you think you’re overdoing it?” you said with a little laugh, taking in the empty bottles around him.

“Y/N,” he said. He didn’t slur, even with his double vision and addled brain. He had trouble focusing on your face. “I’m so sorry.”

Your face softened. “Tony, it’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll be better by tomorrow morning. I’ll make some extra greasy bacon and--”

“No,” he cut you off. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

That was when the first spark of doubt entered your mind. He could see it behind your eyes. A little click and something in your mind shifted away from him.

“Tony,” you said, deadly quiet. You were so close to him, sitting on the stool right next to him, he could smell you. He swore he could feel the freshly-awakened heat of sleep coming off of you. You didn’t have to know this. You didn’t deserve to know this. You didn’t deserve a fuck up like him. “Tell me why you’re apologizing.”

He forced his eyes to meet with yours one last time. He wanted to see the look on your face while you still trusted him. While you were still in love. He had to look away just before he spoke or he wouldn’t have been able to open his mouth.

“At the party last night, I wasn’t with Rhodey. And I wasn’t passed out in the pool.” Your breath hitched and he winced, anticipating the hurt of what was coming. God, if only he hadn’t made that stupid mistake. “I was with someone else.”

The silence made his ears ring. He couldn’t even hear you breathing beside him. His gaze stayed fixed to his workbench, to the little notch in the wood that you’d made in pencil to remind him that you were thinking of him as he worked.

“Oh,” you choked out. Your voice was tight and strangled, like someone was pressing down on your windpipe.

Tony forced himself to look up at you. He had to know what you were thinking, he had to see the damage and try to control it. What he found was a person flying through the space of their own mind. Hurdling past planets and stars, reaching out for a hold in vain, unable to steady themselves.

He had to control this. He had to fix it. That’s what he did, he fixed things. He could fix this.

“It’s never happened before. It’ll never happen again. I was drunk and I wasn't thinking. But I can promise you, it was just a little slip. An accident. We can get past this, Y/N. I know we can. I love you so much, and I know--”

“Please, stop.” He did. You felt like you were collapsing in on yourself and his words were only piling more weight onto your chest. He was making it harder and harder to breathe every second you were around him.

You stood up numbly, trying to push air into your lungs as you did. The tears were somewhere behind your eyes, screaming and stabbing at you to be let go, but you couldn’t do it here. As you turned and began to march stiffly for the door out of the lab, Tony stumbled to his feet and followed you. Inwardly, you swore.

“Wait, Y/N, please don’t go. Look, we can fix this, all right? Just don’t leave.” He sounded desperate. He _was_ desperate. He didn’t know what he would do if you left him. Go back to his life before? How could he do that now? How could he live knowing that you would never forgive him?

“I’m not leaving, Tony. This is my home.” But you didn’t stop walking away from him. Needing to see you, needing to see if it was really over, he laid a hand on your shoulder and tried to turn you around. You shrugged him off and recoiled.

His heart cracked. It wasn’t a recoil of pain, he hadn’t grabbed you too hard, it had been a recoil of disgust. Of hatred.

“Don’t touch me.” You released shaky sigh, building yourself up to speak. “I’m going to be sleeping in the guest room. Don’t go in there, please. I won’t come back down here.”

You continued your retreat, careful not to mount the stairs too quickly. He didn't need to know how badly you wanted to escape. Tony overcame his shock and chased after you again. He was less careful than you and nearly fell on his face halfway up.

“Wait, Y/N! I know I fucked up, I know I did. But I can fix this. I know I can fix it if you just give me a shot.”

You refused to face him. You were afraid that if you did you would assure him. You would tell him that of course it would be okay. You would tell him that you would always be there for him and that nothing had changed about the way you felt for him. But it wouldn’t be true, and you wouldn’t lie to him.

“Just don’t come in my room.”

You left him there on the steps. As your figure disappeared from his line of sight, Tony slumped onto the ground. All of his strength seemed to leave with you.

Head in hands, he murmured to himself, “What have I done? What the _fuck_ have I done?”


	2. The Mender

Tony wanted to see you. You only came home at night about half of the time, and for the other half he had no idea where you were.

Every night you didn’t come home made his heart sink. The roles had been reversed and now he was the one who couldn’t reach you. After he realized that he couldn’t reach you by phone, he started having JARVIS tell him when you came and left, just so he could know you were safe. On the nights that you came home, the relief was overwhelming. On those nights, he could almost pretend that it was just a small fight. That you just needed space.

He didn’t like to think too hard about the nights you didn’t come home. Rationally he knew that you were with a friend, but the gnawing image in the back of Tony’s mind told him that you were with someone else. His mouth filled with bile as he thought of you wrapped up in another man, panting, kissing, moaning. _I love you,_ you whispered to the stranger, voice hoarse.

The thought wouldn’t leave his head. He had nightmares about it. The person you were with with always had a different face. It was someone Tony recognized, but when he woke up he could never remember who it was. The details were different each time, too. The positions, the setting, the name you cried were always different, but the end was the same. 

That’s when Tony would wake up alone, in a cold sweat, already reaching for the bottle of whiskey beside his bed. 

The irony of the dream wasn’t lost on him. He knew that you had every right to be angry and every right to be with other people, though you wouldn’t know it by the booze settling in the pit of his stomach or a the constant aching in his chest.

Despite everything, he was certain that he could fix what he’d broken. He always had, and this was no different. It would be tricky, he knew that, but he’d done trickier. He’d built an arc reactor out of scraps in the desert. He built artificial intelligences in his spare time for fun. He’d saved the world more times than he could count. He could salvage this.

The news didn’t mention anything about the drama between you two. You’d never been a fan of public appearances to begin with, so your absence wasn’t greatly noted. A few tabloids speculated, but that was their job. No reputable paper had reason to stop the presses just yet.

Eventually an event arose, however, and Tony had to approach you about it. He acted casual, though his stomach was in knots. His shot for good luck had only served to make him sick. 

You were chopping vegetables when Tony entered the kitchen. It had been a couple weeks since the two of you had been face to face. You’d been pretty successfully avoiding him, in no small part thanks to Tony reciprocating and avoiding you.

When you saw him, you said nothing. You only stiffened and went back to your work, willing him to keep walking. He didn’t, though. 

He cleared his throat. No response. He cleared it again. You rolled your eyes.

“Do you need some water for that cough?”

Tony smiled sadly. It really did feel like it wasn’t so serious sometimes. You were just like this when he’d thrown a huge New Year’s Eve party and trashed half the house. He’d hired people to clean up and the whole debacle was sorted in a matter of hours, but you were upset that he’d acted like that with no consideration for the consequences. That fight barely lasted a day. 

“Y/N,” he said, soft and sad, gripping your attention despite your best efforts. It still sent a shiver down your spine when he said your name like that. 

“Present.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me--”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Tony took a deep breath and gathered up his thoughts and his nerve. 

“There’s a gala fundraiser for Stark Industries’ new hospital program on Friday. It’s a couples affair--” You both grimaced at his word choice. “Sorry. It’s one of those formal things where you bring a date, and as far as the press in concerned, we’re dating. It’ll be pretty suspect if I come without you.”

“So this is just about the company.”

“If the answer is yes, would that make it better or worse?”

You looked to him from across the island counter top. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. He was clean shaven and you wondered if he’d actually been keeping up with his facial hair or if he’d shaved just for this meeting with you. It was the latter. 

Tony saw you inspecting him and straightened his back, trying to look proud and cocky, like he always was. Like if he pretended hard enough that nothing was wrong, nothing would be.

“It would be better,” you said finally. Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So, black tie?”

“Of course. There’ll be a limo out front to take us to the event hall at seven.”

“What color suit are you wearing?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s black tie.”

You looked up at him and give a mischievous smile. A smile that knew him inside and out. A smile that he hadn’t seen anywhere but in photographs for too long. 

“I know. But which suit are you wearing?”

“The emerald suede.”

“I’ll match. See you on Friday.”

Tony hid his victorious grin by turning and leaving the room to inspect his emerald suit. Before he made it out you called after him. He turned back to you and saw that the playful glint in your eye was gone.

“This doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t change anything. I just don’t know how to handle the media circus around this mess yet.”

The smile was gone from his face in an instant, replaced by a dark grimace. “Right. Of course. I would expect nothing else.”

“Good.” You went back to chopping your vegetables and Tony went down to the lab, thoughts of the emerald suit plaguing his mind. 

As soon as he was gone and you were he was out of earshot, you lowered yourself into a chair at the counter and let yourself cry silently into your hands. How did it ever become this way? When did you have to start protecting yourself from him? From the man you loved?

Tony had held out as long as he could. He’d tried to clean up, to be better, to be who you could deserve--at least publicly. He didn’t want you to suffer for what the world saw him doing. He didn’t want you to be the butt of jokes because of him and his actions. The way he saw it, as long as he drank and broke things and burned himself out in private, it didn’t matter.

That all ended that night. He couldn’t stand it anymore. The look on your face when you told him that the gala meant nothing, that nothing was changed, broke the thin dam of togetherness that Tony had managed to maintain through the past weeks. It told him everything he needed to know. You were never coming back. You hated him too much now. It was already over, and it had been for weeks. You couldn’t even look at him, how had he ever thought that you still loved him? 

The waiting and the restraint had been for nothing. All this time he could’ve been numbing himself. He had a lot of wasted nights to make up for.

He had Happy drive a stretch limo from bar to bar, club to club. He drank so much that it was silly. He drank until his throat stopped burning and his heart stopped throbbing. He was sick and full of horrible dark ooze. Finally, the world was thick and sticky enough to move through. Dense enough to drown him. Finally, he couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t hear or see or sense anything around him. At last, he had a few sweet hours of blissful indulgence. Perfect emptiness. 

Waking up in the morning was worse than anything, so he drank some more. Not nearly as much as the night before, only enough to push away his mind for a little while longer. His stupid, brilliant, treacherous mind.

_I just don’t know how to handle the media circus around this mess yet._

You’d clearly already decided. You’d made your choice and you didn’t want him anymore. He took another swig of whatever what in the bottle closest to him to dull the echo of your voice in his head. 

He wanted to remember the last time he’d kissed you more clearly. It was that day, wasn’t it? When he’d come home after that one stupid mistake? Had he kissed you that day, or had it been the day before? He couldn’t remember. All those goodbye kisses and he never once considered that it would be his last. He could not accept that it had been his last.

You could remember your and Tony’s last kiss. Almost too clearly. You dreamed about it.

It had, in fact, been the day you found out. When he came home safe you’d been so relieved, so happy to see him. You never wanted to let him out of your sight again, but you were exhausted and he’d insisted you go to bed. 

In the dreams Tony would come home, dressed in gold like a king. You were a queen, leaping into his arms and kissing him softly. Planets passed between your lips as you kissed. Whole universes came from nowhere and went to nowhere and the two of you felt all of it. Supernovas, the births and deaths of stars. You were there. 

You would open your eyes and look at Tony. He was smiling down at you, so full of love, and he said something. You couldn’t quite make it out.

“What?” you would say in the dream. He would say it again, and this time you knew that he was saying your name, but it wasn’t _your_ name. It was someone else's, some dark stranger's. You turned a full circle away from him and were faced with a mirror. 

The face in the mirror wasn’t yours. It seemed to be shifting, or maybe it was just out of focus, but you knew it wasn’t your eyes looking back at you. Tony would come up from behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, head nuzzled into your neck.

“Are you happy?” he asked, and there was that name again. It sounded like faraway voices that are speaking a language you understand, but you can’t make out the meaning.

“Are you happy, Tony?” you echoed back to him.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said. When you heard your name you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’d been mistaken. It must be your face in the mirror, nothing else could make sense. 

“Who is Y/N?” said the woman in the mirror.

That’s when you would wake up, cold and alone in your big bed, already reaching out to the empty space beside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really just the worst at posting with any regularity. The tragic thing is that it's not even that I haven't been writing, because I have. In the case of this fic I've had a lot of it written since I posted the first part, but I haven't been happy enough with it to post. Well, tonight I hit fuck it, did some quick and dirty edits, and voila.


	3. The Breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus this fic really wacks itself off, huh? Just jerkin' it like crazy

You avoided Tony like the plague. You’d heard about his debauch the night he’d asked you to go with him and barely had the energy to react. He was going to destroy himself better than any of his enemies ever could. Despite yourself, the thought made you unbearably sad. 

Friday came too quickly for the two of you. 

For Tony, he hadn’t seen you once, even in passing, since that night. He wasn’t sure he could face you if he had seen you. He was sure you’d heard about what he’d done. What he continued to do, albeit quieter since his bender a week ago. 

For you, this was the last night. You’d decided when you read about what Tony had done that night that your relationship had to end publicly. You had to be gone. Hanging onto the last piece of the man you loved, as the last pieces of him were devoured by the destructive shadow that took his place, was too much. You would go along for tonight, make a show that nothing was wrong, and by next week you would be gone. 

You dressed to match Tony, in deep green. It was a nice outfit, one that you’d gotten with a friend on a whim a few months ago, but you weren’t in the mood to appreciate it. Usually when you were in a get-up like this, all dolled up for the occasion, Tony waiting for you downstairs, you glowed with excitement. Now all you felt was tired and bitter and resigned. The green fabric on your shoulders was a painful reminder of times when things were better. 

Tony was waiting for you at the limo. He was leaning against the car, as cool and composed as ever. He looked good, too, in his suit. He always did. 

When he saw you had a little start, which he failed to hide. You stayed stone faced. 

“You look amazing, as always,” he said. 

You nodded and got in the car. Your throat was tight. You hadn’t expected to be as affected as you were. Being around him was much harder than you thought it would be. Every time he looked at you, you felt like you were back in your dream and he was staring at a stranger. 

Tony got in the car beside you and tried not to watch you too closely. He couldn’t help it, it felt like it had been forever since he was this close to you. All he had to do was reach out to touch you. His heart was pounding. He felt like a teenager going to prom with someone way outside his league. He couldn’t stand the silence. He let it build as long as he could before it burst.

“What have you been up to?” he hazarded. A dangerous question, but he needed to hear your voice to feel like this was real. 

“None of your business,” you said in a low tone. You kept your eyes fixed on the street lights outside as they passed as if they were some kind of teleprompter, feeding you answers. 

“Y/N, please. If we’re going to do this we have to at least pretend to be civil.” His voice was confident and incredulous while his insides were being crushed. You were so far away from him despite the mere inches between you.

“As soon as we’re outside this limo, I will start pretending,” you grumbled. You sounded like a child and you knew it. The adult thing to do would be to make small talk, be ready to present yourself as a unit.

You didn’t think you could do it. You didn’t think you had it in you to let Tony shower your praises for reporters, hand in hand. You didn’t think you could look up at him with adoring eyes the way you had so many times before. 

You rode in silence the rest of the way to the event hall. Tony fixed himself a drink at the limo’s bar, and offered you one to match. Normally you would’ve turned the offer down, but a drink had never sounded better in you life. You took it with a nod and drained the glass. It was barely enough to heat your stomach. You hoped it would be enough to get you through the night.

When you finally arrived, Tony turned to you and asked the question he always did before you faced the press: “Are you ready?”

You drained the last drops of gin from your glass and nodded. With a winning smile, Tony opened the limo door to the flashing lights of photographers and reporters. After giving a quick wave to the camera, Tony turned back to you and held out his hand. For just a frozen moment, it was like any other gala event you’d attended. Tony was clean and beautiful, you dressed to match. Nothing was wrong.

You took a deep breath and grabbed Tony’s hand. He helped you out of the limo and you began the slow walk to the front doors. You smiled softly while Tony answered questions about the new program and about the money being raised tonight. He was his usual charismatic self. There was no sign of his drinking or his infidelity. You found yourself unconsciously gripping his hand tighter as you moved through the crowd. 

“Do you have any comment on the reports of your actions last week?”

“What? A guy can’t have a good time now? I think you’d know that better than most, Wilson.”

“And what are your remarks on the person coming forward saying that you and them conducted an illicit affair on the night of the party in the hills?”

“That’s ridiculous,” you cut in. You weren’t sure where the words came from. It must have been something about how Tony tensed beside you. Or maybe it was something more personal than that. “Tony was with me that night. He left the party early because his stomach was upset. I guess he’s become quite the lightweight these days.”

You laughed along with Tony and the press, but had to fight the urge to pull away when he gave your hand a grateful squeeze. Your stomach suddenly turned and you felt the desperate need to shove Tony away and run. 

You resisted just until you were inside the event hall, and then darted off, muttering something about going to the bathroom. Tony saw through the excuse easily, and quickly hailed a waiter to snag a drink. It wasn’t as strong as he would’ve liked, but it would have to do for now. 

After a few minutes, you’d composed yourself enough to come back, but you didn’t take Tony’s hand again. You drifted through the crowd, side by side, Tony nursing drink after drink, both you trying your best to keep it together as you exchanged pleasantries and small talk with other guests. With each forced laugh and personal question you grew more and more sick and claustrophobic. 

“You two are such a beautiful couple,” one older woman said with a kind smile. “When are you going to get married?”

Your heart leapt into your throat and cut off your air. If Tony felt the same, he didn’t show it. Instead he laughed lightly and put an arm over your shoulder. It had that uncontrolled heaviness that came when Tony was slipping into drunkenness.

“Right now I’m just enjoying Y/N’s company while I still can,” he said. 

“That’s so sweet, Mr. Stark. You’re very lucky to have a man like that,” the old woman told you. 

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, shrugging off Tony’s arm and hurrying away.

“Y/N!” Tony called after you before he realized how loud he was. With a casual nod to the eyes he’d attracted, he quickly and quietly chased after you.

He found you on the balcony, hunched over the edge, retching. 

“Hey,” Tony said softly. You wiped your mouth and straightened yourself. You couldn’t stand that you’d let him see you crack. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nothing even came up,” you grumbled, not facing him. 

Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting with them. For possibly the first time in his life, Tony didn’t have any idea what to do. Cautiously, he stood beside you, taking in the night skyline. 

How many times had he flown over this very building on his way home to you? How many drunk calls had he made on the street? How many kisses and delicate moments had the two of you shared under these very stars? The dark outlines of skyscrapers against starlight reminded him of better times, and reminded him how far away they were.

“Y/N, what do you want me to do?” he finally said, so soft that you barely heard him. “What can I do to fix this? My mind keeps spinning over it, again and again. It’s all I think about. I just think about you and I think about how to fix this, and right now I’ve got nothing. I need you to give me something.”

“You got a time machine in that suit?”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. 

“What do you want me to say, Tony?” you spat. “That I understand? That I forgive you? That love conquers all?” He winced. “I don’t, and it doesn’t. I don’t know what you expected.”

“I expected something!” he blustered, running a hand through his hair. “I expected you at least to talk to me. To act like you give a damn about us.”

“Act like I give a damn?” you echoed back to him, baffled by his ego. “Who cheated on who here? The last time I checked, you were the one that went out and slept with someone else, not me.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I hate myself enough for that? I will never stop hating myself for that, but at least I’m trying to fix things. At least I’m not just giving up.”

“I know this is going to blow your little mind, Tony, but some things can’t be fixed! Sometimes you fuck up real bad and you just have to live with it and live with the consequences.”

“That’s not--”

“No, no. Do tell me, Tony, how you’re going to fix this. If you’ve been thinking so goddamn hard about it, what’ve you got? What possible explanation could you have that would absolve you?”

“I don’t know what I was doing, Y/N. I was drunk and you weren’t there, and they were. Things just started happening and,” he trailed off. He couldn’t bear to look at you. He couldn’t stand seeing all that rage, all that hatred and betrayal as he tried in vain to explain himself.

“Do you really think the fact that you were drunk changes anything?” you finally answered. “Tony, it’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re always drunk.”

“Not always,” he grumbled defensively.

“You’re literally drunk right now.”

“I’m barely buzzed right now.”

“That’s bullshit, but it’s not the point. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about us. I think maybe this has been coming for a long time.”

Tony was stunned speechless. Before that stupid mistake, things had been great. As perfect as any relationship could be. You noticed his slack jawed stare and smiled sadly, the anger slowly melting out of you. It was the same feeling as explaining to a small child what happens when you take the goldfish out of the tank.

“I let a lot of things go by that I shouldn’t have,” you admitted, to yourself as much as Tony. “The drinking, the partying, the late nights. I saw all of it happening and I didn’t like it, but I let it go because you were Tony Stark. Genius, hero, titan. You’ve made more innovations and saved more lives in the last year than I will in my entire life.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tony snapped, turning his eyes away from you. He couldn’t bear to look directly at you, too scared of what he would see. Too scared that his worst fears were being realized.

“I realized that it wasn’t about you. It’s about me and what I’m willing to accept.”

“I didn’t know that you felt that way,” Tony muttered. “If you were unhappy--”

“That’s the thing, Tony. I wasn’t unhappy. I was the happiest I’d ever been.”

Tony forced himself to look up. He was surprised to find you smiling, tears in your eyes. You looked up to the sky, trying to dry your eyes. You let out a stammering laugh.

“I was so in love with you that you could do no wrong.” You laughed bitterly. “I was worried sick about you, all the time. But it never even occurred to me to blame you. Not for any of it. The drinking, the risk-taking. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Y/N, I know that it doesn’t seem like it now, but we can fix this.”

“No.”

“Yes! I know it’s hard, but we are worth fixing, Y/N. I will do whatever you need me to do. I will go into any program, give up any habit. I will do anything.”

The tears fell freely now. It was the hope in Tony’s eyes that did you in. The desperation. The earnestness. It broke your heart, but you’d made up your mind.

“I can’t trust you, Tony.”

You put a hand behind his neck and kissed him, deep and slow. If you were honest, you didn’t ever want the kiss to end. Neither did Tony. He closed his eyes tightly and pushed himself as close to you as he could. It was the same feeling as when you wake up from a dream, but you can hold on to the last few frames for a moment longer if you just keep closing your eyes. 

When you finally pulled away, Tony went cold. He’d never felt so cold in his life. Like he’d been dumped in a frozen lake. His fingers and his chest went numb. He couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat as you went past him and out of the hall. He was sure it wasn’t beating at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buhuhhhuh editing is not the thing that I do right now
> 
> Being in character? BAH! Checking for really basic errors? HUMBUG! nO SIR that aIN'T iT. I will write this fic in short bursts WEEKS APART with absolutely insANE character changes and I will POST IT without READING IT


End file.
